Reason #1:
Blogger will no longer support FTP publishing after May 1, which was what I was using for this one. (I cannot do the custom domain thing as Blogger suggests because I'm maxed out on subdomains)

Reason #2:
I got this cool software that I can use to easily update and change the look of my blog.

Reason #3:
I haven't written in my blog for a long time, so continuing on with "Ornamental Illness" after a 10-month hiatus seems a little silly, so I'll just start a new one. There is not much there now, but I really don't have time for this blogging stuff anymore anyway. Plus, I want to keep Ornamental Illness as an intact relic and not migrate it over to blogger, as I'm sure it would lose something in the transfer.

Reasons why I did not start a new blog with Blogger:

For the awesome support for Open Social Gadgets, and the growing number of third party gadgets built to work with Blogger, which will provide a lot of opportunities to add to my blog's functionality, like the selection of Social Widgets, Facebook and Twitter Integration, fanning, following and blah.

Despite the ironic new name, I can probably swear a lot more there than I feel comfortable doing here for various reasons I will not go into.

Bugs: Stan and I were in a strange building that was a combination of a mall or department store and a library. It was dimly lit, and Stan had brought his laptop. He was telling me that "the bugs were talking to him." I didn't know what he meant, but he told me he was talking to bugs, literally insects, inside his computer, or through some sort of messaging system in his computer. I though the was crazy. I then examined his computer and saw that he had connected to a bunch of different people's computer via some network, an each name that came up on the network, Stan thought was a bug. I was also looking at clothes in this library/mall...mostly jackets that were made with faux fur in colors like dark tipped yellow fur and hot pink fur. I don't know when I would wear such a think unless I felt like being ironic. Most of the jackets were cut too short for my taste anyway. Then the manager of the library/store starts to turn the lights off to shut the place down. I call to Stan because I didn't know where he had gone. He says something back, but it's indecipherable. I then yell to him again, again he responds and I can't understand a word he's saying, I say curse word, I wake up.

Pugs: I was outside of an apartment building and noticed a Pug tied up to a post . I thought it was cruel that someone would do that because it would be so stealable. I had Lucifer Sam with me on a leash. Then someone called me on the phone and asked if their pug was still tied up below. I guessed it was the owner of the dog in the apartment building (why they called me is anyone's guess...it's a dream, right?) I told them the pug was there and that I'd watch it for them. They told me they'd be down shortly. I then untied the dog from the post and started walking it on a leash. It was difficult to manage two dogs at once. Then the owner, female, came down and noticed that I had the dog and was walking it. I guess she thought I was stealing it because she reached her hands out to tackle me against the hood of a car. I thought she was approaching to give me a hug for watching her dog, but she slams me onto the hood of the car. Some gratitude.

Now that we know Daniel Farraday's pedigree, there are a couple things that have me baffled.

1) His eyes. OK, maybe I'm really too picky, but I've always noticed people's eyes and their eye color. For example, when I saw "Tommy" the first time, I was really disturbed that the child they chose to play the young Tommy had average brown eyes, not the spectacular blue eyes of Roger Daltrey, who played the older Tommy. Your eyes can't change color like that. And ever since 10th grade biology when I found out that blue eyes are recessive, I've been super observant of the casting of actors in regards to their eye color and those of their characters' parents' eye color. Take Daniel Farraday. His eyes are brown. Eloise Hawking's AND Charles Widmore's eyes are both blue. Genetically speaking, it is impossible, assuming they are his biological parents. Which brings us to a subquestion...what's up with the name Farraday, anyway? Why not Daniel Widmore or Daniel Hawking? Who's Farraday? And why?

2) His accent. Explain why two Brits have a son who speaks with an American accent. Did Eloise send him away to boarding school in the states at an impressionable age? Perhaps while she was a Hostile on the Island? Or was Danny Boy with his mum on the island where most people spoke with an American accent which is where he picked it up? Will we see the young Daniel there?

Ever since I found out Eloise Hawking is Daniel's mother, I stopped suspecting that Widmore was his father because of the eye color factor. I then began suspecting Non-Aging Man Richard Alpert, not that that explains the last name either, but it would explain the eye color.

Other than the eye thing, the casting for young and old versions of the characters has been exceptional. And I knew at the opening of the show who the young boy and his mother were immediately. And I also guessed correct that Marvin Candle/Edgar Halliwax/Mark Wickmund/Dr. Chang is Miles Straume's Dad. But of course then I have to ask...who is Daddy Straume?

Every evening I receive a preview of what will be on Wisconsin Public Radio the following day. Tomorrow is supposed to be a program in the morning with the following topic:

"A new survey suggests the economic recession has Americans redefining their necessities. Some say dishwashers, clothes dryers, andother appliances are now luxuries. After six, Joy Cardin and herguest invite you to share how the economic downturn has effected theway you consume.Guest: James Burroughs (BURR-ohs), AssociateProfessor of Commerce, McIntyre School of Commerce, University ofVirginia."

Dishwasher? I never had a dishwasher. I never had a microwave. Guess I have always been in a recession. Now as for the clothes dryer? That depends on your perspective. I suppose the people saying that Clothes Dryers are luxuries have the luxury of living in a nice dry climate where you can hang your clothes out to dry on a clothesline. I assume they also have the luxury of having enough open yard space that affords them the room to have an outdoor clothesline that's not under trees and eaves where you get tree debris and bird poop on your clean clothes. And in inclement weather, I suppose these people also have the luxury of having a roomy basement or laundry room where they can hang their clothes inside. It seems that if you have the space and room and fortunate climate that affords you the ability to go without a Clothes Dryer, you are the one with the luxury.

I remember more of my dream last night that I forgot to write previously.

I dreamt we also had a caged rodent...like a gerbil/hamster/guinea pig. I remember thinking in the dream that my house had become like the Natalie Portman character's (Sam) in "Garden State." I love that movie.

I dreamt that Stan and I bought a French Bulldog puppy. It was so cute. It was mostly all white. We were later at a pet store and found an English Bulldog puppy, white and tan, and bought that as well, thinking, "you won't get a chance to get both a French and English bulldog like this."

After we get them home (which was sort of like our home, but different because there was a hallway with bedrooms on the southwest side of our house running alongside the length of the house, sort of like a bungalow style except bungalows are rather hallway-less), I start to realize that maybe we had bit off more than we could chew with four dogs and two new puppies. The next morning I wake up and realize we didn't put the pups to bed. Our old dogs were in their kennels, but the puppies had free-range. We had neglected to buy the new pups kennels! As I walked down the hallway, I passed a room where my mother was sleeping. She was staring out a window, and didn't seem to realize I was there. I went into the living room. The English bulldog puppy was under the couch, and it looked like he was choking on something. I didn't know where the Frenchie was. I felt very sad.

What were we thinking? It's not like buying a couple rare houseplants or something. I mean, yeah, in dreamworld it would be great to have 4 dogs, plus the financial resources and space for them, but even in dreamworld having 2 puppies at a time is too much. Of course, maybe in dreamworld we don't have to work for a living and can spend our entire days taking care of and training two puppies.

I was mailing a bunch of items as normal, however I was using stamps on all of them even though they had high postage (usually high postage items require DC or Insurance, so I take them to the counter at the PO). One envelope I had completely filled with stamps so there was no room for the address. So I tried peeling the stamps off, but I had overlapped some of the stamps so when I tried to peel them off, the printed part of the stamp beneath stuck to the backside of the stamp on top of it. I was really upset to see a $5.00 stamp ruined because of that (sorry, if an item of mine requires $5 of postage, it's also getting DC at the minimum, so I'm not going to stamp it). Also, some of my envelopes had stamps in multiple layers, attached at the top edge only on top of one another, so they hung like you could flip through them like a flip book, if that makes sense. I thought that probably wouldn't be kosher with the PO.

I was with someone I knew briefly about 15 years ago, and her daughter who was about as old as when I knew her (I have no desire to see this person again). We were in a large shopping mall that was very dimly lit. I started pushing her daughter in a stroller. It wasn't cumbersome at all, both brat and stroller were very lightweight...I was hardly doing any work (which is probably why I didn't mind). I pushed them into a restroom, and stood by the kid while mom went into a stall. When she came back out, I went into a stall. It had turned into a unisex restroom, since I could tell there was a big, noisy man in the stall next to mine. There seemed to be an extra door on this stall that just hung there and didn't seem to be useful for anything.

When I came out of the stall, it was like I was in the Student Center at CSU. I was trying to see if I got accepted into an art exhibit. I was looking through records and books trying to find my name. Finally I asked a woman in charge, and she gave me a sheet of paper. I couldn't find my name listed. I was disappointed. Then I went into the main part of the cafeteria. I sat down at a table, which seemed like a car (maybe it was at Jackrabbit Slim's) because it seemed to move. But maybe it wasn't the car/table moving, maybe it was the conveyor belt of old people passing by that was moving. Or were they standing still and I was moving? Who knows. But it was like a parade of Del Boca Vista residents. My parents were there too. First my dad passes by. He's facing the wrong way. I say "Hi Dad" and he turns to see me, smiles and says hi back. He's standing with a cane, and doesn't look as old as the last time I saw him. A few more old people down, my mom is standing, talking to some other old ladies. She's wearing an outfit that is like something Polyester Retirement Modern...kelly green and white color...totally not my mom. I couldn't understand why she dressed like that....not that there's anything wrong with that...it's just not her. Also on the conveyor belt was Jerry Seinfeld. Poor Jerry, ending up doing schtick to an audience of his parents' Florida neighbors on a tray line in a Colorado university cafeteria. So were the old people part of the show, and the audience was the people in the cafeteria, mostly students probably? Or was the show on the tray line and the old people were his audience? Hard to say. Despite this very strange turn of events for Jerry, I found him quite hot! He looked like Jerry, except younger, younger even than the first season of Seinfeld. Like maybe in his late 20s...his hair was longer. He had some strange piece of material with him that was like a small quilt, but not a quilt. It had about 5 squares of colors across and down...the edges of the colors blended into each other. I don't know what it was, but I found it fascinating. I have no idea why he had it, why I was intrigued by it, or why I found him so attractive. I mean, I like Jerry, he definitely wins out over George and Kramer, but...I don't know, it was kind of weird. Anyway, getting back to the dream...I turn around in my table/car and see all the old people that were formerly on the conveyor belt sitting behind me as if the car/table turned into a roller coaster or open train (like the kind you can take in the Milwaukee/Brookfield Zoo...zoomobile). Jerry is talking to people behind me, who are my parents. My parents know Jerry? This can't be right. I say something to Jerry and smile, hoping he'll notice me. Unfortunately, he's more interested in the old people. WTF.

Hey Stan, did you know Jerry went to high school in Massapequa, New York? Chattapeaqua, baby! Our Terry Mattheson is George's Art Vandelay.

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